


When to Speak

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the walking dead kink meme: Daryl flinches at Rick's yelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When to Speak

Daryl knows that he’s a quiet person. He doesn’t talk much, never really has to be honest. Between Merle being Merle and his Dad’s constant yelling, there wasn’t much of a chance for him to get a word in edgeways and whenever he tried he’d just be shouted down and belittled for it. So he’d kept quiet, knowing it was better to avoid conflict and to just keep his mouth shut and get on with it. His whole life had been that way and though he certainly could express himself when he needed to, with words that could hurt and bite at others who got too close. He just found it easier to not deal with words when Merle seemed to know what he was thinking without saying a damned thing.

Things were fine that way, hanging out with Merle and the guys he hung around with, getting by without many conversations. Whenever there was a disagreement between anyone it would be sorted with fists and a fight before the matter was closed for good. Everything made sense back then before the world got fucked and he’d had to start living with other people. With Merle gone there was no buffer between them, no one to say what he wanted for him so he had to be around all these people that wouldn’t shut up.

They were always so loud, even when they had to be quiet to avoid the danger on the road they were always talking or yelling or laughing or fighting. It was beyond annoying, it had gotten to the point that Daryl sometimes went hunting just to get away from all the noise for a while.

Tonight they had settled in a rotting old farm house off the beaten path, everyone else was inside sleeping in the main room, he’d volunteered to take the first watch to get a break from it all and was enjoying the cool night air. Winter was beginning to settle in, the cold getting to them all lately and the search for more clothing became almost as vital as the hunt for food and water. Their latest find had been some fingerless gloves for him, giving him the ability to still use his bow and all the finger dexterity he needed whilst giving him some extra warmth. The poncho had been more of a joke from the Greene girls, but the damned thing was warm so he didn’t care.

Hearing the door open and close to the side of the house he’s on his feet in a moment, clutching his bow and readying himself to attack if need be. When he hears Rick’s voice in that hushed yelling tone he settles back down, looked like it was another bickering match between the happy couple. This sort of thing had been happening often, almost daily between their travels and safe points. To him it was normal, parents fought all the time, it was just how it always was. It was one of the reasons he’d never been interested in a long-term relationship; too much yelling for him to feel comfortable.

“Lori I do not have time for this.”

Chewing on his thumbnail he watches the stars through the trees, tries to pick out all the constellations and remember all the rude and dirty names he and Merle had come up for them one night after too much whiskey. It doesn’t help, he can still hear them fighting, barking at each other in hushed voices.

“Then when will you have time? You barely look at me let alone talk to me at all.”

Oh great, it was that fight again. The one that made him feel uncomfortable and right now hearing it without their permission makes him wonder if he should make himself known or just leave. Instead he buries himself further down in his poncho, wanting to cover his ears like he used to when he was younger but knows he can’t endanger the group like that. So he focuses on watching the woods and trying not to hear the argument happening.

“I’m busy.”

“Too busy to see if your pregnant wife is okay? To check how I’m feeling or even put your hand on my belly and feel our baby start to move?” Lori’s voice is high pitched, desperate and hateful, full of anger and question, it’s a tone of voice he remembers well.

That’s when Rick snaps suddenly and he can’t help but flinch at the sudden shout that snaps through the air.

“I have other people to think of as well Lori! This isn’t a game, the world is different now, there’s no time to admire the flowers and see if I can get you something you’re craving, this is about survival and it doesn’t just include you.”

Rick’s voice is loud, working up into a near shout and sounding even worse when compared to the silence of the woods around them. Daryl begins checking over his crossbow, even though he knows there’s no way he can tend to any issues by the weak moonlight. Still he refuses to acknowledge that he can still hear the fight, that every time Lori raises her voice back he flinches and prepares himself to find somewhere to be small and unnoticed.

“Oh right, God forbid should I think I was actually important to you at all Rick. I didn’t realise I was lower on the list than these people that we barely know.” The door shuts with a finality behind Lori as she storms back inside and Daryl lets out a small sigh of relief that it’s over. There had been no answers, no resolution to it at all but he’s just glad he doesn’t have to listen to the fight anymore.

A sudden thump on the porch support beside him makes him jerk automatically, pressing himself back against the wall of the house and feeling ashamed when Rick finally notices him. Quickly he moves back to tracing his fingers over his crossbow, acting as if he’s been busy this whole time and that he certainly didn’t just brace himself for a hit. For what it’s worth Rick doesn’t mention it, just gives a tight nod almost in apology and moves to perch on the porch beside him.

Daryl knows there’s nothing he could say in this situation to make it any better, he’s shit with words and making people feel better after all. So he stays quiet, checks his arrows over for the third time and lets Rick just cool off beside him. Being quiet he can do, and he can do it well, so maybe if that’s what Rick needs right now, he can take it upon himself to do that for him. So they sit and when he’s finished fidgeting he watches the stars again, giving a small smirk as he recalls one of the nicknames.

“What?” Rick asks, voice quiet and questioning, nowhere near the tone that had made him feel so on edge earlier on.

Shrugging a little he tries to brush it off, Rick had wanted silence and he didn’t want to ruin something he could do so well. But the other man had nudged his foot with his own, and Daryl doesn’t like to dwell on how clearly thought out that move was to ensure he wasn’t startled. So instead he points out the constellation, tracing the seven stars easily. “Big dipper. Merle and me, we called it the Big dicker.”

Rick snorts, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. “You are not teaching Carl the constellations.”

Daryl grins at that, nodding in agreement. Maybe he wasn’t the greatest with words but Rick didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact he seemed to like having something else to think and talk about that didn’t focus on the fight. He could get used to this talking thing, he’d just have to practice. Tracing another he lets Rick watch his finger point out the fainter stars before he speaks again. “Wait till you hear what we called Pisces.”


End file.
